This letter is written by me to my virtual-real lover.

Why virtual real?

Because I met him in the internet. We communicate in such a way for a long time and we know a lot about each other. Due to circumstances, we mostly communicate through e-mails, privates and phone calls, rather than in our real life. Unfortunately, for several reasons, we cannot afford to meet in real life as often as we want. But the emotions sharpened by the lines on the screen and the voice in the handset make our real meetings memorable. And since most of our communication takes place during the working day)))))) then the action takes place at work.

“... You know ... It's really worth writing about this, if only so that I myself to the end realize that I was getting up in the toilet stall a few minutes ago ...

So, I will try to tell ...

I wrote you a short note that I'm going to jerk off ...

That I terribly wanted to jerk off ...

But why did I want to touch myself?

You wrote me a letter ...

>> I'll leave for three hours now

>> and how are you in the evening? from 15 to 17.30

>> a lot of work?

> and it is always a lot)))))

> I'll be at the office

> and I will wait for you

>> just do not smoke!)))

That's exactly the last line made me WANT!

It was because I believed for a moment that you were coming to me.

Somehow it immediately surfaced in your brain that you ask me not to smoke when we meet and there will be something between us.

Although these thoughts immediately changed others, more real.

The fact that you have a car laid up, and you would not go into the unknown, without telling me even if you had a car at hand.

Thoughts have changed, but the desire is not lost - on the contrary, as it was keen to touch myself, so was the excited emotional state.

And I wrote a letter to you that I ran to the booth to play with pens, how often I get after talking with you.

And sending it out of the office.

Good thing you didn't ask me to write you what I am today ...

I walked down the hall in high black leather boots with a zipper on the inside. Boots with blunt noses, high, almost under the knee

Ankle tight leg. They have a 5 inch square heel.

In general, complete horror for your psyche (remembering that you like the elegant classic stud, and elongated, but not sharp-toed toes at the shoes)

But in any case, I am writing as it is.

Black tights, tight, which are generally not visible from under a long black skirt.

Ankle-length skirt, wedges, "Gade" (if this tells you something). It is straight, slightly emphasizes the hips and wedges apart.

And the burgundy sweater that you know is a sweater with slightly flared sleeves and a high neck, without fasteners.

The sweater is dressed in a jacket, although it is said loudly. It reaches the hips, more precisely, it wraps around the hips and the black skirt goes like a continuation, as the sweater fits the entire body from shoulders to hips.

I'm sorry, I can't write beautifully now or something like that ...

I walked along the corridor, heels did not knock, but there was a desire to run.

I also felt that I would need to go to the toilet for a natural reason.

I have not attended this institution that is noticeable for me since the morning. And to break away from communicating with you, at least for 5 minutes ... It is better to endure to the end!

I entered the toilet.

I was just lucky.

There was no one.

I entered the middle stall.

Closed.

And then she pulled the sweater up almost to the neck, so that it was convenient for me to touch my chest through the black bra.

I took the edges of the skirt, and gathered them in pleats, I stuck my hands under the wide hem to get to the gum pantyhose.

Having coped with a tight elastic band, I lowered the pantyhose to the knees.

But alas, along with the pantyhose, I slipped off the wide hem from the waist, hiding my knees with a black bell.

I had to spit on my appearance.

I quickly gathered the hem in front of my belly level. Twisting the fabric a couple of times with a braid, tucked the tip of the belt in front, so that it would not jump out and distract me.

Then I took a thin elastic black panty.

And pulled them off her ass.

I noticed that now there is no wet spot on the cotton strip - as usually happens when I'm excited from your lines, I rush to the toilet.

Panties lowered, but not to the knees, but only to the level of the buttocks.

So that when you slightly move your hips, the edge of the fabric and the front and back just rub on the body.

Behind the roundness of the buttocks, forcing otlyachit ass even more. And in front of the curls, under which the lips are still tightly squeezed together, hides the clitoris. But only such a touch of tissue on the body, clearly responds inside. And I want to reduce the muscles, so that at least this way to get to the clitoris.

I stood like that, with a sweater pulled up above the chest and a skirt at the waist tied with an almost knotted knit tights and underpants.

Hands lay on the lace cup bra, and nails began to scratch the already protruding nipples. Like a cat, it scratches the floor, not in a circle, but with light movements from the edge of the bodice along the seam that goes in the middle of the cup.

At the same time, the body somehow began to arch itself. Touching the bundle of panties, stretched under the buttocks, then bending forward, feeling how with a light crunch the fabric will slice over hard curls on her pussy and how sweet it will go inside.

I closed my eyes, my breathing became loud and intermittent. Like a passing bladder signal.

I felt the pressure on the lower abdomen, but it faded when the tight elastic band of the panties lowered onto the hips crashed into the body.

It was warm through the body, it became hot.

I just now understand that then I was breathing hard and probably loud enough.

I turned to the left wall.

Slightly spreading my legs, I pressed my chest to the cold tile.

Nipples, and even the chest itself flattened, sandwiched between a white, smooth tile and my body.

Hands abruptly pulled off her panties from the hips and lowered them on their knees to the pantyhose.

Pull down below and panties and pantyhose was impossible, because of high boots.

I raised my left hand up, bent it slightly in my elbow and leaned it against the cold wall.

And the right hand dived between the parted thighs and walked from the slit of a slightly wet slit of pussy, along swollen lips to the clitoris.

In this case, the fingers slightly pressed under the clitoris and a few droplets of urine were spread over the warm fingers.

What a completely wild feeling passed inside.

The desire to release the jet right there.

And torment yourself by doing it very slowly.

And at that time the shoulders began to walk from side to side, and the body, which had stuck to the cold tile, began to slide with openwork cups on the surface of the white tiles.

Just slide.

That did not bring relief, but only annoyed, because at the same time almost did not feel the nipples.

And the hand did not stop rubbing her pussy. From a wet hole to the clitoris and back.

Not forgetting to press on the hole of the urethra. And with each such time a few drops of urine were on the fingers and smeared on pussy already with the released grease.

After a couple of movements, the hand already walked like a butter between the thighs, according to quite recently a completely dry cunt.

But sliding the chest through the fabric on the tiles was annoying.

With both hands I freed the breast from the cups, tucked the fabric of the bodice under the chest.

And when the hot bosom, buried hard nipples in the cold tile, and having slightly raised her shoulders, I felt the nipples rub against, gradually hardening more and more, my hand between my legs just went crazy.

I began to rub myself between my legs like an abnormal one with such bitterness that I did not immediately understand that my palm was all wet. And between the fingers appears the moisture that already flows in small streams along the inner side of the thighs, ...